


Love Sunday

by LewdPointyNoses



Category: Kaiji, 賭博黙示録カイジ | Tobaku Mokushiroku Kaiji | Ultimate Survivor Kaiji (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Domestic, Boyfriends, Domestic, Erotica, Foreplay, French Kissing, Late at Night, Lazy Mornings, Living Together, Love, M/M, Passion, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, fkmt - Freeform, kaiji - Freeform, kaiji sidestory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-16 21:45:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13645047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LewdPointyNoses/pseuds/LewdPointyNoses
Summary: Teiai Corp was treating Ichijou and Murakami badly, making them overwork late into the night. Venting his frustrations, Ichijou relied on Murakami and his support, and they both tackled the hardships of life together. But due to all that stress, they really hadn't had time for any intimacies lately. It was time to change that.[Domestic AU, for Valentine's Day. Vanilla Erotica, with fluff and passion.]





	Love Sunday

 

“I can’t believe it!!!” yelled Ichijou furiously as he entered the apartment, threw his heavy winter jacket underneath the coat rack, and stormed off into the living room. Murakami followed inside, keys still jangling in his hands, looking worried. He pursed his lips, closed the door, and calmly hung Ichijou’s jacket on the hook, as well as his own. Ichijou was in a terrible mood again – for good reason.

It was 3 o’clock on the morning. On a Sunday. The night had wrapped all their spacious windows in darkness, a few snow flakes glinting in the pitch black cold outside, falling silently without a stir of wind. Murakami switched on the lights as well, and took off his shoes with a tiny sigh.

They had been working deep into the night again. Doing paperwork for the casino, which had gotten excruciatingly worse over the last few weeks. The higher-ups at Teiai wanted more exclusive and detailed data and accounts on all games, asking for more and more every time when they handed in the huge binders. Slot and pachinko machines were easy, but Roulette, Poker and other tables had a lot of human interaction that was hard to work out using camera footage. Thus, Ichijou had been burdened with a lot of extra stress he didn’t need. Due to the secrecy of Teiai, he wasn’t allowed any help – it had taken several formal requests to get Murakami approved as well, so that they could both work on it.

And yet, it was still too much.

They were working overtime every single night. Six days a week. This Sunday was a holiday, thankfully, but Teiai Corp had insisted, and quite strongly so, that all should be finished before that. They were done now, but Ichijou’s mood had sunken to the deepest depths of hell. And Murakami was worried.

 

Murakami entered the living room as well, and switched on the lights, finding Ichijou draped on the classy leather couch, sunken and slid down, his legs sprawled out, his shoes thrown somewhere, and his hand covering his eyes. His tie was undone, the suit jacket thrown onto the coffee table. He was 100% done for the day, but still overcooking with emotions. Tired _and_ angry. A very unhealthy mix.

“Ichijou…” whispered Murakami, sitting next to him, not trying to disturb him in his thoughts. “Murakami? I don’t get it!” blurted Ichijou out, and jumped up again, pacing erratically left and right while speaking far too loudly indoors. “How the FUCK am I supposed to do all of this on a weekly basis?! No, not weekly, DAILY basis?!?!” Murakami twitched for a second, frowning. He had rarely heard Ichijou be so loud, and he knew that when Ichijou was breaking out the F-word, it was serious.

“They could have just sent a machine, a program or something, do all that datawork with computers, but, OH NO, we need secrecy, you do it, Ichijou!” He was clenching his teeth in anger. “Oh yeah? How about you work overtime every night, you dumb Teiai big suit?! It’s not like I need a private life or something! How about _you_ sacrifice yourself for the big ol’ glorious corporation, huh?!” Ichijou was gesticulating all over the place, Murakami wanted to calm him down, but also knew that Ichijou needed his rant. Even if it would make him hoarse again afterwards.

“Just what are they thinking up there?! Am I made out of unlimited resources and time?! I’m human too, for FUCK’S SAKE!” His face had turned more extreme over the last minute, snarling in anger, eyebrows knitted, wrinkles in his face deepening. Murakami shifted slightly on the couch, worrying about his beloved partner’s blood pressure and stress levels. “And they just continue to ask more!! How am I…?!?! What do they even WANT from me?!”

He was furious now. “Why do I even have this job?! Why did I crawl and bow my way up so much when all I do is work more and more, to please these dumbasses no one likes anyway?!” He pointed furiously at his own chest: “I was the one who made this casino a great place! I was the one who took care of sucking it up to rich regulars and shaking hands and making sure that they stayed!!! Teiai did jack shit, this is MY casino, MY hard work, and they just look down on me with their piercing hawk eyes to make sure that THEY don’t lose a SINGLE yen!!! Money that **I** brought to the firm!!! Me, ICHIJOU!!!” His voice had reached a piercing, shrieking tone. “And do they even invite me to their monthly meetings or something?! No, of course they don’t!! I’m just some tiny dumbass branch of an underground casino no one needs, but suddenly we next extra data extraction and surveillance!!! Not even a FUCKING RAISE did I get all out of this extra work!!!”

Ichijou’s hands went through his hair, repeatedly, in an erratic rage. “AAAAAAAARGH, day after day, I sit there with huge files, spooling through videos of endless, endless gambling, I didn’t become a manager to do this stuff!! I’m just their errant boy! Bring them money and get bullied at the same time!!! It just never stops!!!” He buried his face in his hands, screaming muffled into them “ **NNNNRRRRRGAAAAAAAHH!!!** ”

Murakami gently lifted his finger and spoke as soft as possible, not trying to enrage him more: “Ichijou…” Ichijou abruptly turned to him, screaming: “ **YES WHAT?!** ” Murakami staggered backward a bit, his eye twitching, but caught himself and calmly answered. “Ichijou… Sit down next to me.” Ichijou’s face fell apart in shock just in this very moment.

“I-I’m… I’m so sorry, Murakami, I didn’t want to lash out at you…!” Ichijou’s posture sank, his eyes became wide and watery, and Murakami could see the whole tension leaving Ichijou’s body. Dragging his feet over the carpet, Ichijou fell on the couch, next to Murakami.

Anger and fury left, sadness and tiredness came back in.

With a tiny sniffle, Ichijou cuddled up against Murakami, his cheek resting against his shoulder. “Murakami… Where would I be without you…?” Slumped against his beloved partner, he really felt tired now, as well as slightly bad for yelling at Murakami. Where would he be without him, really? Murakami was his stability, his immovable rock in a sea of uncertainties, one he could always rely on.

It had started when Murakami had joined the casino, shortly after Ichijou had begun his work there too. He had always been a bright employee, happy to do his job, and then, one day, he had started with little extras: Bringing fruits for breakfast to Ichijou’s office, gladly staying overtime, and always reachable when there were emergencies. Ichijou smiled for a second, he would never forget the day a little fire broke out in the office, and not even thirty seconds after Ichijou had hit the fire alarm, Murakami broke through the door with a fire extinguisher from the hallway, panting and screaming: “Are you alright, boss?!” He was level-headed and threw himself into danger for Ichijou, that had impressed him so much.

Murakami smiled and answered: “I don’t know where you would be without me, but I know where we are now.” He put his arm around Ichijou, his palm gently caressing shoulder, as Ichijou snuggled up more to him. “Murakami…” whispered Ichijou, coming even closer, his face moving past Murakami’s shoulder, to his chest. Pulling his legs up on the sofa, Ichijou rested his head against Murakami’s breast – a spot he really liked. With a tiny sign, “ _Hm…_ ”, he rubbed his cheek against Murakami’s big chest, and loved how he could feel the soft chest hair under the shirt against his face. How firm Murakami was there, it was his personal little spot to rest his head against, right there. Murakami smiled, looking down at Ichijou nuzzling him, and took his other hand up to gentle stroke Ichijou’s long, luscious hair.

His fingers went repeatedly through the soft strands, he loved how Ichijou’s hair smelled. It was more than just shampoo, some unique flavour was there too, Ichijou’s scent, but he couldn’t even put his finger on it what exactly it was. Something homely and warm, a smell that he adored even more when they were in their big double bed sleeping, when he could sense Ichijou next to him, rolled into a bundle of linen and blankets. “Are you feeling better now, Ichijou?” he asked quietly, petting Ichijou head, and feeling his partner’s warmth against his own chest, and a slow “Mmmh…” came back, a lot more relaxed than before. They both felt the tiredness and the heaviness of their limbs setting in, they had been working far too much today. Hell, it was ‘tomorrow’ already. “We are both just overworked, we should make ourselves a cosy Sunday. Teiai is bullying us, yes, but I’m sure it won’t be for long anymore. They will lose interest soon. And it shouldn’t bother us here at home. We are far away from work.” said Murakami calmly.

 

A peaceful silence filled the room. The wind outside howled softly through the night, and Murakami felt Ichijou’s head on his chest, as well as his slow breathing.

 

Ichijou then suddenly cleared his throat, and whispered softly: “Murakami… We also didn’t have sex for quite some time now. Maybe it’s that too…? That I’m just starved with all that stress…” Murakami’s eyes widened, and he blushed: “U-Uh… Yes, that is true, we always came home so late, we never had time, really…!” He could audibly hear the answering grin coming from Ichijou’s face on his chest.

“Well, what do you think, Murakami…?” said Ichijou, and got up on the couch again, looking at Murakami with half-closed bedroom eyes: “How about a little late-night fling, hm? It’s been a while…” Ichijou trailed Murakami’s big chest with one finger, the tip running gently over his shirt. Murakami was blushing harder, Ichijou had this uncanny ability to make him flustered with his directness about such things.

Ichijou’s hand reached Murakami’s face, gently cupping his cheek, leading him towards each other. “Oh, Murakami… When was the last time we properly kissed…? Like no ‘Good morning, darling’-kiss…?” Murakami couldn’t answer, but also didn’t need to answer this rhetorical question. “Come here…” whispered Ichijou, taking Murakami’s face into both hands. “Ichijou… I… “ he started, but Ichijou came closer, closing his eyes and interrupted Murakami with his lips finding his.

“Mmnh…” sighed Murakami, feeling his boyfriend’s soft lips so gently against his own, now that he was experiencing it, he could feel his craving, his need for Ichijou, a need that was completely erasing his sleepiness. They kissed slowly, meeting again and again, closing their eyes at this tender moment, Ichijou gently caressing Murakami’s face, while Murakami moved carefully, putting his arms around him. Their low moans between kisses turned them on, “Mnh…” sighed Ichijou a bit louder, answered by a quiet “Hah…” of Murakami, full of adoration.

All this work, all this stress, all this weight was dissolving into love, and Ichijou decided that he wanted more. More of his Murakami. He was starved for a good sexual experience, he could feel the want rushing through his body, accumulating in his loins. “M-Murakami…” he moaned through the kiss, pulling back a bit. They both opened their eyes, half-closed with beginning lust, and Ichijou got up from the couch to reposition himself. Murakami was confused for a second, where did he want to go during this kiss, but he understood a few seconds later, and the situation made him blush very hard:

Ichijou looked down from above, licking his lips for a second, and then came closer – and sat astride Murakami’s lap, facing him, his shins on the couch. If they had been naked, this would have been a first-class riding sex position, but they were still dressed in their casino clothes, suit pants and shirt, and this directness and proximity made Murakami immensely flustered. He loved it, he loved his partner, his wonderful Ichijou, and how he could bring this strength and passion out of him, but the way he was so straightforward with sexual advances was something that made him blush, the same way the very first day it started.

“ _I love it when you blush…_ ” whispered Ichijou, smiling deliciously, coming closer, his chest meeting Murakami’s, only a few millimetres away from his lips, he could feel Murakami’s erratic warm breath. “I… I just…” stammered Murakami back and smiling nervously. He sometimes needed just a bit of reassurance for anything raunchy that happened outside the bedroom. He could be a dominant and strong man when given the opportunity and chance, but Ichijou just loved to tease him. When they were in the workplace, a simple lewd question with a one-sided eyebrow raise could make Murakami beet-red, digging himself deeper into his paperwork or whatever he was doing at the moment. He was alright with the teasing, hoping to become more accustomed or relaxed around a flirting Ichijou, but so far, no success. Much to Ichijou’s personal devilish happiness.

Ichijou slowly parted his lips, coming closer, looking into Murakami’s happy, nervous eyes, and kissed him, stronger than before, putting his arms around Murakami’s big shoulders. “M-Mnh…” moaned Murakami into Ichijou’s lips, trembling, but getting calmer with every second of this hot embrace. Ichijou’s tongue brushed against Murakami’s lips, and he opened his mouth with a low groan to let him in. “Mnah…!” moaned Ichijou, feeling the tips of their tongues meet, sliding against each other, he frowned, coming closer, snuggling himself harder against Murakami.

Murakami on the other hand was falling hard for Ichijou again, like he often did, feeling his partner so close to him, his thick thighs on his legs, his chest and belly against his, his hands around his shoulders, and his tongue, his powerful, loving tongue, caressing his in their hot, wet mouths meeting again and again. Putting up his quivering hands, he put them on Ichijou’s hips, holding him, feeling him under his palms, squeezing slightly, enjoying how his body felt, so firm, yet so soft.

“Hah…! Mngh…!” moaned Ichijou louder, kissing Murakami deeper, faster, he wanted him. He wanted to feel him, everywhere, so much, it had been far too long that they had enjoyed hot, passionate sex together, no, any kind of sex. This was going to be the night. Murakami too was melting away under Ichijou’s hands, feeling this fierce, heavy passion poured into him by his partner. He equally frowned, moaning louder, “M-Mnh! Hah…!” kissing back - his nervousness was vanishing, being replaced by strong, hot _lust_.

Their kiss was getting messier, more vocal, more separating to meet again, strings of saliva connecting their lips, their tongues sliding so strongly, so seductively against each other, and Murakami’s hands moved down, towards Ichijou’s back. With a low groan, “Mmnh…”, his palms slid over the smooth suit pants, over Ichijou’s round, big arse, squeezing it, holding it, right there on his legs – it turned him on. A lot.

Ichijou gasped slightly into the kiss, “H-hah…”, feeling Murakami’s big, warm hands on his behind, and immediately reacted, slowly moving his hips in wave motions, wanting more, so much more. He felt Murakami’s breath getting quicker at this, him holding stronger on his butt cheeks, spreading his legs a bit more and equally moving slightly, grinding upwards. Ichijou smiled into the kiss for a second. Seeing Murakami go from “flustered” to “assertive” during foreplay was something he loved from the bottom of his heart. He continued in his motions, in his kisses, grinding himself against Murakami’s loins, and getting more and more aroused in the process, first drips of sweat appearing on his forehead.

“Mnah…! Hah…! N-Ngh…!” moaned Murakami louder, he could feel it, this lust, this passion, this love accumulating in his loins. He was getting hard. Hard for Ichijou. Hard at this foreplay, this anticipation, the prospect of passionate sex, this lustful body of his partner, this sexually charged kiss. He wanted Ichijou. And now, he could feel it too. Ichijou’s rock hard erection. Bulging in his suit pants, pressing against the fabric, grinding against his, it was nearly too much for him, he gasped, stopping in his kiss for a second, panting, but Ichijou didn’t stop, he parted from the kiss, looking into Murakami’s blushing, sweating face, continue to grind his hard, rigid cock against Murakami’s - it was insane.

“I-Ichijou…” stammered Murakami, swallowing hard, his hands still holding Ichijou’s butt cheeks, feeling their erections rubbing against each other. Ichijou became slower in his movements and asked teasingly, panting through his breath, looking directly into his dazed eyes: “Yes… Murakami…?”, but he still didn’t stop, and that slow, strong, long, hard grinding, again and again, just made it even more difficult for Murakami to keep his thoughts together.

“ _I… I want you…_ ” whispered Murakami, trying to not drool, looking up at Ichijou astride his lap, his partner towering above him, feeling him heavy on his knees, but he didn’t mind, he loved it, in fact. “ _I want you too…_ ” breathed Ichijou back, his stare half-closed, fiery bedroom eyes meeting Murakami’s.

Ichijou grinned and shuffled himself up, and Murakami’s hand slid off his arse, sitting there in anticipation for what was about to come. To his surprise, Ichijou got down on his knees in front of him, while looking at Murakami’s crotch. Murakami blushed for a second and understood. Ichijou sat in front of him, between his legs, on the carpet, so Murakami spread them just a bit more, while sliding down the couch, to give Ichijou more space.

“Hehehe…” With a low chuckle and a delicious grin, Ichijou’s hands slid over Murakami’s thighs, over the smooth suit pants, towards Murakami’s pants zipper and belt buckle. Ichijou came closer, resting his arms on Murakami’s legs, and started undoing the belt. “H-Hah…” breathed Murakami, looking down from above - it had been far too long since somebody else than himself had been handling this part of his body, and now, he was more than looking forward to it.

With a tiny metallic click, Ichijou had undone the belt, but didn’t immediately open the trousers. Instead, he let his hand run over the strong bulge, gently squeezing the shaft through the fabric, he could feel it, Murakami’s rock-hard erection, he himself moaned lowly “Oh yes…” at the feeling of his partner’s rigid cock under his palm. “NNGH!” groaned Murakami through clenched teeth, squinting his eyes together and holding on to the couch cushions, this was already nearly too much. Ichijou was so good at teasing, had so much fun with this foreplay, it was an event to watch, and even more to feel. “Mmmh… Murakami…?” asked Ichijou, looking up from down below – he was met with Murakami’s quivering stare and his voice breaking apart: “Y-Yes…?”

Ichijou didn’t answer directly, but instead, let his finger run along the fabric over hard shaft, tilted his head, and asked, slowly and teasingly: “ _Do you know… how much I want your cock…?_ ” he licked his lips. “ _I want it… A lot… I want it in my mouth…_ ” His hand pressed stronger against the bulge, shortening Murakami’s breath, making him frown in passion, Ichijou continued, “ _I love your hard… rigid… erection… It turns me on… So much…_ ” he took the zipper between his two fingers, slowly, slowly opening it, “ _I love it… The size it has… The shape… And just… how hard you are… for me…_ ”

Murakami had to pull himself together, the way Ichijou talked to him, with this soft, slow, seductive and erotic voice, was too much for him. His breathing was falling apart, he could only nod and purse his lips together, getting more aroused with every passing second. As Ichijou continued to unzip these tight, narrow pants, Murakami groaned, “Nnnngh…!” as his strong erection finally got some space peeking out under his briefs, through his fly.

“ _Oh yeah…_ ” came the immediate reaction from Ichijou, his eyes locked on Murakami’s loins, he continued to open his suit pants, further, undoing the buttons, and finally – pulling down Murakami’s underwear, exposing his rigid, upright cock in all its glory. “ _Hah…_ ” gasped Ichijou wantonly, coming closer, his eyes foggy with lust, looking only at this strong, hard dick in front of him. Murakami was dripping already, glistening precum slowly running down the tip. Seeing this, Ichijou was even more turned on. He could feel himself getting harder, how his own erection pressed against his tight pants, oh yes, he wanted it.

With one hand running down his own body, over his shirt, between his legs, and the other one reaching towards Murakami’s erection, he bowed further forward, coming closer, his breath getting faster, sweat running down his face, it had been far too long. He was craving Murakami’s cock, he wanted it, he wanted Murakami to feel good, he wanted to feel it inside him. Now.

And with one soft touch, Ichijou lips met the tip of Murakami’s cock, kissing it, repeatedly, his strong, wet tongue sliding over the tip, tasting precum, it was insane, it felt so good, it had been far too long, Ichijou moaned loudly, louder than before, “Mnah!! Hah…! Yes…!” Holding Murakami’s cock firmly in his grip, he started to move his hand up and down, continued to make out with it. His warm lips around the tip, he suddenly let it slide into his mouth, he frowned in passion, he soft the tip felt, how erect it was, so hard and strong in his hand and his mouth, oh yes, all the while he opened his own pants with his other hand. Ichijou wanted to touch himself as he was pleasuring his partner, his Murakami, with his mouth, it turned him on so much, he managed to undo his belt and reach inside his own tight suit trousers and gasped vividly as he felt his own palm against his own naked erection “ _H-Hah…!_ ”.

Murakami had lost his mind in the meantime, his mouth open, head thrown back, panting, his eyelids fluttering, holding on to the sofa cushions, clenching them in his hands - Ichijou was giving his all to make him feel good, and he couldn’t handle it. His mind was blank with pleasure, full of sexual energy, he pulled himself together with his last strength, looking down at his beloved partner between his legs, and gasped as he saw the erotic picture unfolding in front of him: Ichijou’s lips sliding tightly up and down his shaft, his blushing, aroused face, the sweat running down his skin, his hair getting messy from all this strong up and down movement, and his own hand around his own cock, stroking himself as he continued to lick and caress Murakami’s rigid shaft, his eyes only focusing on this act of intense desire.

“I-Ichijou…! NGH…!” moaned Murakami, his voice breaking apart with lust, he couldn’t take this sight, it would excite him too much, make him cum too fast. He threw his head back again, squinting his eyes together, his back arching, the tension running through his whole body, and gasped for air, his voice nearly filling the big room: “Y-YES…! HAH…!” Ichijou was overjoyed as he heard that, and continued, even slower, teasing Murakami more as his lips slid tightly, slowly, passionately over his rigid, hard, big cock.

He let Murakami’s dick out of his mouth again, tilting his head, and nuzzle the shaft, kissing it, slowly, taking his time, his lips brushing over this strong, erect dick, pressing against it with his tongue, holding it steady. He closed his eyes again, it felt good, it felt so good, he rested his head against Murakami’s thigh, wanting to lick it, tasting is more…

Breathing heavily, Murakami had his eyes closed, it was insane how good Ichijou could tease him with slowness, his passion and taking his time, was this what ‘edging’ felt like? Always so aroused, so close to release, but prolonging it so much that he got stimulated more and more until he couldn’t take it anymore? Ichijou was so good in doing that, and Murakami loved it, their foreplay could go for so long, so intense, so many positions, making the final release, the simultaneous orgasm, so strong, turning it into a bonding moment full of trust and love, with so much lust and passion when they both came at the same time…

Murakami blinked a few a times. Ichijou had stopped. That was unusual.

He looked down, confused, and saw:

Ichijou had fallen asleep. Just right then and there.

Ichijou's head on Murakami’s thigh, his hand loosely around his erection, and the other hand limp on the ground, his own erection still exposed. A tiny, very small snoring sound could be heard, “ _Chrrrrrr…_ ”, not unlike a cat’s purr, coming from the completely exhausted partner in front of him.

“Oh!” gasped Murakami and couldn’t supress a small chuckle “Hn-hm!”. They really had worked very hard over the last week and having free time now must have taken all the weight off Ichijou’s shoulders, exhausting him to no end as the accumulated tiredness from a whole week was coming back at full force. Murakami took a quick look at his watch, and yes, it was nearly half past 3 in the morning. It was more than understandable. And as he looked at his beloved partner sleeping on his thighs, he couldn’t help but smile at how adorable it was. To finally see all the stress wane from his partner’s face, a serene sleepy smile on his lips, made him more than happy.

Without waking up Ichijou, being very careful with him, he picked him up under his shoulders and lifted his heavy boyfriend up, placing him on the couch for a second. Ichijou on the other hand wasn’t waking up, he was completely done, continuing to snore gently. Murakami quickly fixed both of their clothes for easier transport, putting his erection back in his underwear and closing his suit trousers again. Carefully doing the same for Ichijou, he then picked him up under his shoulder, his arm firmly around his waist, and gently walked him to their big, comfy bedroom. Murakami smiled, what a long day this had been, and he was now equally looking forward to a good night’s sleep.

He yawned. Tomorrow would be a good day.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Ichijou pulled his blanket up to his nose and groaned, turning over to his other side. He slowly opened his eyes, blinking a few times, his eyelids still heavy with sleepiness. The sun was already up, and shined through the big, spacious windows of the bedroom, the blue sky giving the day a wonderful brightness.

“Nnnngh…” groaned Ichijou, it was far too early for his own taste. What time was it even? He rubbed his eyes and shuffled himself up into a slumped over sitting position, his hair a complete mess, like a poofy haystack with strands sticking out left and right.

With big yawn, he stretched himself, his arms far, far above his head, “Wooooaahaaaa…” and then fell back into a pile of crumpled tiredness. He had either slept too long or not enough, but alas, he had slept like he hadn’t in a long time.

It was now that Ichijou fully realised his surroundings the longer he sat there. Murakami wasn’t next to him, that was a bit odd. Had he already gotten up? And now, he was noticing that he was wearing his favourite sleeping clothes combo: an oversized t-shirt and some comfy sweatpants. He couldn’t remember putting these on, but he was glad to wear them. Wait… what had happened last night?

Ichijou scratched his head, blinking slowly. He and Murakami had come home, he had yelled about Teiai again, and then… they had enjoyed some well-deserved raunchy time together, that made Ichijou smirk, but… His mind simply went blank. Did he…?

Reaching under the blanket, Ichijou twitched for a second as his hand brushed over his loins. He squinted and whispered lowly: “Either I’m _still_ hard… or I’m hard _again_.” He decided to file this under ‘regular morning wood’ and got up from his bed a bit wonkily and dragged his feet to the living room.

 

As he entered the big, sunlit living room with the connected kitchen, he saw Murakami already busy in the kitchen, facing away from him, frying something in a pan. He was still in his pyjamas as well and wore an additional apron on top. The stripes of his sleeping clothes really clashed with the checkerboard pattern, which made Ichijou smile as he came closer. The delicious smell that now reached Ichijou’s delicate nose told him that it was bacon, fried to the point.

“Mornin’…” mumbled Ichijou, rubbing his eyes. Murakami turned around, brightly smiling with the pan in his hand, a spatula in the other. “Ah, good morning!” He put the bacon on a little plate and placed it on a little tray, where other breakfast ingredients had already accumulated: jam, toast, ham, cheese, oranges, strawberries, yoghurt, scrambled eggs, butter, even a few croissants and smoked salmon. “Whoa…” mumbled Ichijou looking at the setup, that was even more than the usual Sunday feast.

Murakami took off his apron, placed the pan in the sink and walked quickly over to Ichijou, putting his hand on his hip and gave him lovingly a short kiss on the lips. “Did you sleep well…?” he softly asked as they parted, Ichijou nodded slightly, his eyes still half-closed, slurring a sleepy “Mmnyeah, prettywellthankyou.” He yawned again. “Waaaaaah… Did you put me in my sleeping clothes and tucked me in?” asked Ichijou. Murakami laughed: “Haha, yes, I did. You were too tired last night, and suits don’t make for comfortable sleep!” Ichijou shyly smiled as well, he loved Murakami for his attentiveness and care in such tiny details. He really was a treasure.

Picking up the tray, Murakami walked over to the big dinner table, which was already draped with a fine white tablecloth. A teapot was already on there, gently steaming with hot, delicious tea. Ichijou shook his head for a second, his eyebrows slightly raised, what fancy breakfast table that was. Was there some special occasion he had missed?

They both sat down at the table, Murakami placing everything down with great care, and smiled as he poured some tea for the two. Ichijou hung in his chair, his elbows on the table, trying to comb back his floofy bed head hair with his hand, running his fingers through a few times.

Picking up a knife, Murakami began his breakfast, while Ichijou was still staring into his cup of tea, blinking slowly. Something special was today, Ichijou thought, but he simply couldn’t find out what it was, and rummaging around in his tired brain didn’t help much either. With a small sigh, he picked up his cup and brought it to his lips, and asked, as laidback as possible: “Say, Murakami, is there… is there a special day today?”

“Hm-hm!” Murakami chuckled, and placed a strawberry jam toast in front of Ichijou he had just finished preparing. “You really were overworked, so much so that you have forgotten the date of today!” Ichijou nipped at his tea, but still couldn’t find the answer. The hot Earl Grey went down like a potion of power, he loved the taste, filling him with a hint of energy. He pondered. “No, I really don’t remember. It’s… Sunday, right? That much I know. We have time to eat a big breakfast, so it’s not a day between Monday and Saturday where Teiai wants us to work overtime.”

Ichijou placed down his cup and turned to his strawberry jam toast made by Murakami, who always spread the jam out so evenly, he couldn’t recreate even if he tried with all his might. Just as he bit into the crunchy, sweet, fruity bread, Murakami whispered, like a casual friendly reminder: “It’s Valentine’s Day.” And nipped at his own tea.

“CCHRGNNNCH” Ichijou nearly chocked on his toast and jumped up, his mouth full, “Ohm nmo!!! I totally fmorgotff!!!” He quickly swallowed with a big gulp, slapped his hands to his cheeks and began rambling: “I’m so sorry Murakami, I totally forgot, the work recently had been so much, I just didn’t…! I don’t even have anything planned, I don’t have a present, I didn’t book a restaurant, my evening suit isn’t even pressed yet, oh no, why did I-“

“Ichijou.” Said Murakami calmly and gestured him to sit down. “Everything is fine.”, he added with a smile. Ichijou fell onto his chair again, defeated. The sudden adrenaline rush had woken him up, but now he was taken aback that he had forgotten such an important day. So far, the last few years they had always gone to a fancy restaurant, the opera, or ballroom dancing, but now… Nothing had been prepared. Just because of this insane, time-consuming busywork.

Suddenly, Murakami’s hand brushed over Ichijou’s on the table and he gently held it while he came closer. Ichijou looked up and blushed a bit, too flustered about his faux pas of forgetting this special day. “Ichijou. That’s alright. I knew how stressed out you were and trying to find something so short notice would have put you even more on the spot. You were so buried in your work that you forgot to ate sometimes. If I hadn’t placed sandwiches all around you every few hours for you to absentmindedly pick up, you would have fallen over out of hunger.” Tilting his head and shyly looking at Ichijou’s body, he whispered: “And I would really miss those love handles.” After a tiny beat and Ichijou now fully blushing at Murakami’s honest caring words and actions, he continued, and looked directly into his eyes. “You were already running on fumes, so I didn’t want to additionally stress you out. So, I took it upon myself to do a little something, and I have an idea.”

Murakami lifted Ichijou’s hand to his face, came even closer with his chair and gently rubbed his cheek against the back of Ichijou’s hand. “Let’s make ourselves a cosy Sunday, have a good breakfast, and do nothing today, except hang around, cuddle, watch TV and… have _s-sex_. _L-Lots of it_.” His voice had cracked a bit at the last few words, but it was exactly that which struck Ichijou at heart the most.

“I… I didn’t…” Ichijou started, but simply couldn’t hold back his outburst anymore, his voice broke, “That’s so kind of you, Murakami!!! And s-such a great idea, yes!! Yes, let’s do that!!” and nodded vividly. It had been such a simple and beautiful solution, one that only Murakami could have come up with when Ichijou was too lost and entangled in complicated thoughts.

“ _I love you…_ ” whispered Ichijou and Murakami answered, “ _I love you too…_ ”

They both smiled and met for a long, soft kiss, Ichijou gently nibbling Murakami’s upper lip, Murakami equally sighing and kissing back gently, while they squeezed their hands, holding them on the table. When they parted, they both looked lovingly into each other’s eyes.

 

And so, they sat in the sunlit living room, eating their breakfast and enjoying their lazy Sunday, talking about mundane and silly things they hadn’t had time for in the workplace. Murakami was happy to see Ichijou laugh again, he hadn’t seen him so carefree and relaxed in quite some time.

When Murakami got up to carry the tray back to the kitchen, he bowed down next to Ichijou, close to his ear. Ichijou could hear the underlying shy smile in his sentence: “ _I see that you are still hard, you were hard all through the whole breakfast, I… I really liked that._ ” Ichijou answered with a devilish smirk, quickly got up as well and hugged Murakami close, his hands directly grabbing his arse, his loins pressing close to his, chest to chest - Murakami gasped, he hadn’t expected such an immediate reaction. Ichijou’s lips nearly brushed Murakami’s earlobes: “ _How about we forget the dishes and continue where we left off last night…?_ ” His hands squeezed Murakami’s butt hard, Ichijou kissed his neck and continued: “ _I want you now… My Murakami…._ ” Ichijou’s head nuzzled the nape of Murakami’s shoulder and whispered: “ _Take me..._ ” Ichijou could practically feel Murakami twitching at this last sentence.

Not wasting any time, Murakami was on fire, took Ichijou by his hand and they both ran towards their big, cosy bedroom. There was nothing in their way now that could stop them. No time limit, no work schedule, no casino paperwork, no Teiai – just the two of them, full of lust, want, love and sex.

It was going to be the best Valentine’s Day. And as the door closed behind them, happy giggles turned into loud, delightful, passionate moans that filled the apartment on this calm bright Sunday.

 

 

 

**The End.**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you liked it, leave a kudos and/or a comment, I'm always happy about feedback!
> 
> Visit me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/LewdPointyNoses) for updates and ravings, or write me on Discord, Lepon#2891!


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